Narcissism
by Mr Bellatrix Lestrange
Summary: Written for the "Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall" Challenge. Harry/Draco and Draco/Draco with the aid of our all time favorite potion- polyjuice! Warnings for spoiler . It's rated M for a reason.


**A/N: Written for astronauts 's "Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall." Challenge. **

**I felt scandalous just writing this. **

**Being sexually attracted to one's self; prompts: magnetism , lightning , box of chocolate , pond , looking glass , makeup. **

Harry had called him vain, and narcissistic, and greedy, but it hadn't mattered in the end because he'd done it. And Draco was all those things, no denying, but Harry Potter had told him this as if it were a bad thing. At least he'd agreed with the blonde though, there must've been some reason for that. He was giving in to Draco's poison, soon it'd consume the both of them. Draco was ready for that as well.

For nearly a month the two spent every waking moment in Snape's private headquarters- much to the Gryffindor's disdain. After dinner, before class, they just had to slip away from their friends and check the potion, perhaps swapping a kiss or two. Draco would've really liked it if they could bump up their shag sites by one, but the raven-haired boy all but refused. All Draco could think was that at least he'd agreed to his other request.

Draco could remember his own timidness at voicing his fantasies aloud. It was after their more than satisfactory sex in the Prefect's bathroom. One down. And Harry had his arms wrapped tight around Draco. "You want to have sex with yourself?" He teased playfully.

"I know, it's stupid." Draco mumbled, blushing dark red. "Forget it."

"No, Dray, that's really hot babe."

Draco looked into his lover's face, but he could already feel the truth pressed against his thigh. Harry looked at the fogged up mirrors from the steam, the sinks rushing to mask their noises.

"We're going to need bigger mirrors."

xxx

Halfway through the month, when Draco and Harry were on the Hogwarts grounds, he tried to ration his kink. Harry had already caught him staring more than usual at himself in pond and glass reflections. Just to explain it to Harry, the Boy Who'd Already Agreed.

"It's a Malfoy trait." He said, no longer able to blame his narcissism on heat-of-the-moment pillow-talk; not now that they were both calmly reading texts of their choice bellow the Whomping Willow- or as close as they could get. The Black Lake lulled lazily, as if everything were right within the world, and not inner turmoil. "A Malfoy heirloom!"

"Well, I love a man that can treat himself." Harry chuckled. "But do you think your Dad's ever...?"

"Harry!" Draco shrieked, hitting him with a book at the obscene hand gesture.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't resist."

Laughing, Draco had to seriously consider that thought. Resulting in him up at two in the morning with images of his dad-on-dad contact.

He hexed Harry the next day.

xxx

When the potion had only a week left to settle, Draco had to ask Harry for HIS request. It was only etiquette. Plus, he'd already agreed.

Amazingly Snape hadn't found their Polyjuice- liquid love. Or, he was ignoring the stolen ingredients, obvious potion-brewery, and cauldron in his bed-quarters. Maybe he'd poisoned it. That would get Harry off the hook.

Or dead.

"As long as you don't make me wear make-up, I'll do what you like." Harry stated that same day, as Draco sprawled himself on his Godfather's green silken sheets. Harry sat cross-legged on the floor, head against the wall, eyes closed. "This reminds me of second year." He breathed.

"Second year? When did you make Polyjuice second year? I always thought you were rubbish at Potions."

The Gryffindor's eyes snapped open and his face lit up like a holiday tree light.

Draco pounced off the bed to his lover. "What? What did you do? Who did you be?" As far as Draco knew, Harry wasn't sexually active in second year, so what could he have needed Polyjuice for?

An entirely different reason.

All things considered it was cute that his future boyfriend had spied on him. Even cuter that he honestly suspected him of being the Heir of Slytherin- how sweet! "Besides," Draco brushed off in a huff, "I wear enough make up for the both of us."

xxx

With one day in counting, the two spent the remainder of the Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw game under the stands. Draco snogged his boyfriend, trying to memorize the feel of him, so that he knew what HE felt like- tomorrow.

"You know, it won't be any different. To me, I mean." Harry said when they'd pulled away. A few drops of rain splattered around them. Cheers and cries echoed out above them, but they existed only in their own little bubbly of security.

"What, kissing me?"

"Yeah."

"It bloody well better be! You will be impersonating the body of THE hottest person on this campus. A Malfoy nonetheless! Treat me carefully." He sniped. This was going to be different than just masturbating in front of the looking glass. He would be able to feel all that was him- all that he was for Harry.

Harry nodded. And then, "I already agreed." But not like it was a chore or anything. It was a Malfoy.

He was pretty damn sexy, that Draco fellow.

xxx

"Happy Birthday!" Draco screeched, sliding into the deserted Great Hall where his boyfriend sat, alone at the Slytherin House table.

The ceiling above them echoed with the occasional clap of thunder, star gleaming dimly behind the fleeting rain that never reached them. The cold melted off the air. Only few candles remained lit enough to see. All was quiet.

Harry swallowed his response of "it's not my birthday." Let sleeping children lie. The blonde (and soon to not be the ONLY blonde in the room) thrust a box of chocolates at the other boys outstretched hands.

"I wanted to see what color you were." He complained, as he took the lid off the heart-shaped box. He remembered that icky mud-like color. A bit of a turn-off.

"Silver." Draco stated, pride turning haughty in his tone. "Was there ever a doubt in your mind?" The silver orbs of eyes blinked at Harry.

Silver, like the waxing moon, like liquid mercury, like innocent unicorn blood. That was better. "Yum Draco..."

His boyfriend smiled a 'cat that ate the canary' smile, which normally would've frightened the other man. Now he just took it to mean, "I know, just shut up and eat the candy."

More painful than he remembered, the transformation.

But whoa.

He felt slender and lean. Long fingered hands, unlike the usual square calloused ones, groped his angular face. And the flat stomach he loved so much on Dray fit oddly beneath his abed ones. But this was definitely different.

The platinum strands obscured his view. His view, he shed the glasses. His clothes felt distorted.

Draco's mouth was watering.

"Oh Merlin, can I call you Draco too?"

'Let's not overdo it,' would've felt so good rolling off Harry's- Draco's- tongue.

"Knock yourself out."

Oh his voice whispered out in that slippery fashion. Harry had heard that voice whisper dirty words at him in the night, painting pictures in his head that had no end. He felt himself get hard. This was what it was like to be Draco. A smirk played his lips, felt so right. His hand on Draco's cock on his cock on Draco's hand.

He lunged at Draco.

Mirrors which set up around them magnetized the scene. Two Draco's romping around, teasing, playing. The Real Draco had a hard-on from moment number one.

Lips that were pale and his trailed down his jaw. The butterfly kissed his collarbone and sucked at his neck. That tongue, oh he looked in the mirror and watched the man that was him chew his earlobe and send shivers down his over-actively-tingling spine.

Their bodies pressed together, a pale chest on pale chest. He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his ruffled hair, anchoring a hold on the silky locks that were in his control. He guided his mirror image to his grey-pink nipple, had his swollen lips suck at his sensitive spots, rolled over and did the same. Moans of "Draco" and "yes" and "more" entered the room, the DracoDraco wasn't sure which words were his as he snogged the other Malfoy. Their tongues wrestling in their mouths, not fighting for dominance, but accepting and meeting in the middle. The perfect outline of each matched the other. Above them, lightning flashed.

The one below him, smooth like materialized water, a spider's web-cocoon. It moved down, licking his stomach, nibbling his thighs. Draco stared in the mirror to his right. His hair was sticking up, his eyes dilated and his lips puckered. He watched as he himself reached his own cock. He hadn't even remembered taking off his clothes. The haze.

Yes, sweet.

Good thing he'd agreed.

Fake Draco, but solid, spread his white orbs below him. He didn't touch the cock so very like the one he perceived, he just licked his lips, Draco's lips, and shoved a tongue deep inside his pink puckered hole. Draco cried out, his words and swears bouncing back in the empty hall.

"Oh fuck!"

He squirmed around. The tongue deep inside him was his. Hot and wet, swiveling and pushing. He watched himself shove his tongue further, glued to him, pulling the feast-able sounds out of Real Draco's mouth.

And then the flat wetness was gone, Draco's weeping cock wanted to just let go, and to end this because he wanted to come so bad. But pseudo Draco wouldn't let him.

One finger, then two. Draco rode his own fingers, different than the shorter ones that usually stretched him wide. These met his small bundle of nerves on the first time, was this how Harry had managed?

But it wasn't Harry. It was just him, and he was going to be fucked by himself. In the mirror, in his arse, in the Great Hall. Here. Now.

And the fingers Draco had accustomed to were gone, and something duller replaced their spot at Draco's entrance. The secret to his success.

A long pale hard shaft like something from a dream. Because it reached his prostate at its base, they fit so perfectly it was like they belonged. Draco knew what he was missing. Knew what he needed and had craved all along. His tightness was an even ratio of his thickness, his slamming in and out. How the sound of his balls on his slicked up arse, oh the sounds. Draco above him was thrusting and Draco-other watched in the mirror as he did this but felt it, and he was two placed at once, and it was sensations like never before.

Lightning flashed, thunder clapped, and inside Draco's head, a ticking time bomb went off, ringing in his ear. "Oh Draco Draco Draco." And he was coming his love and his narcissism and his vanity and his greed and his ecstasy without ever laying a hand. And he watched as Draco Two came, his face mirrored and mirrored in perfection and picturesque-ness a hundredfold. And the rain could wash away their trace, the thunder mask their sound.

But Draco fell ontop of Draco. And the two lay there breathing in the Malfoy smell. The Malfoy heirloom. And Draco Two turned to him, sweaty and sexy and happy and different because it wasn't the man with the glasses, but the same because it would be just like looking in the mirror to his right.

Draco-Harry, but Harry-Draco, looked at hims and petted him and kissed him.

And then he pulled away and whispered, "next time, I get to wear the make-up."

And Draco agreed.


End file.
